


Midnight Adventures

by daydreamsonacloudyday



Series: Isabel Cousland [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsonacloudyday/pseuds/daydreamsonacloudyday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabel and Alistair accidentally lock themselves in Redcliffe’s dungeon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Adventures

Isabel awoke with a scream, covered in a cold sweat. Her heart was wildly thumping in her chest, her breaths frantic and uneven. Her nightmare had started with her reliving the bloody murders of her family, and then morphed into the horrors of the archdemon and the darkspawn. One without the other was a nightmare enough, but both together? She doubted she would sleep the rest of the night.

She could at least try to find comfort in Alistair's arms, so she crawled out of her bed and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around her body. She opened her door and almost jumped when she found Alistair already standing there, his hand up and poised to knock.

"You dreamed of the archdemon as well?" she asked, a statement more than a question. He nodded, bringing his hand up to cup her face.

"And I heard you scream," he said with a frown. Isabel leaned into his touch, letting out a deep breath.

"My dream was more the archdemon interspersed between my family being murdered again and again," she muttered.

"Oh, Izzy," he sighed, pulling her into his embrace. She hugged the blanket tighter around herself and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. Alistair held her close, rubbing her back through the blanket to comfort her.

"I don't want to go back to sleep yet," she whispered, terrified of what she would see in her dreams.

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Then let's go down to the larder. I know dinner was quite the feast, but I'm still hungry."

Isabel giggled; she would no doubt grow hungry once she was awake for a few more minutes, thanks to their Grey Warden appetite. "That sounds like a wonderful idea," she replied, pulling her head from his chest and offering him a small smile. Alistair flashed her that lopsided grin of his and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before they disentangled from each other. He took her hand and laced their fingers together as he led her through the passageways of the castle to the larder.

"Here we are, my lady," he said, opening the door for her. She giggled and stepped inside the larder, her stomach growling at the sight of all the food. Alistair's stomach growled in answer to hers, both of them bursting out in laughter. "I used to come here all the time as a boy," he said wistfully. "Back then I was too short to reach all the cheese." He plucked a wedge of cheese off of a shelf with a grin. Isabel rolled her eyes and grabbed some dried meats, while Alistair grabbed some bread.

He sat down on the floor, his back to the wall and his legs spread open, and she joined him, sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He took her blanket and wrapped it around the both of them so they would stay warm while they ate.

Comfortable and content to be in his arms, Isabel began breaking off pieces of cheese, alternating from eating it herself and feeding it to Alistair over her shoulder. They stayed like that while they ate, and he told her stories of his escapades through the castle from when he was a boy. She even told a few stories of her and Fergus' adventures from when they were children, when she could speak of it without too much pain in her heart. When she had trouble finding her words, he would press little kisses to her neck, the gentle scrape of his beard a pleasant contrast to his soft lips. Those little kisses were a comfort, helping her get through the stories.

"Did you really lock yourself in the dungeon? For an entire day?" Isabel asked, remembering the comment he made when they first snuck into the castle a couple months prior.

He chuckled, his laugh rumbling through his chest so she could feel it against her back. "Yes, I actually did." He paused for a moment, his brow pulled down in thought before his expression softened and he shot her a mischievous smile. "Would you like to see the infamous cell?"

She looked up at him with a wry smile. "Of course."

They got up and quietly went down to the dungeon, their footsteps the only sound they made as they moved. Alistair directed her to a small cell, a pile of straw tossed into the corner. Isabel ran her fingers over the bars on the door as she stepped inside. She let out a short laugh and spun around to face him, giving him an amused smile.

"How exactly did you manage to lock yourself in here?" she asked, and he shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.

"It's easier than you think," he retorted, pushing himself off the wall. "There's a draft from the windmill entrance… I learned the hard way that it blows the cell doors shut from time to time."

"A draft, huh?" He nodded, moving closer to her, and her lips curled into a devious grin. "Is that why it's so chilly down here?" she asked, faking a shiver.

"Oh, the lovely lady is cold?" he replied, a lopsided smile on his face. "I'll have to fix that, I think."

"And how do you intend on doing _that_ , Ser Warden?"

He chuckled before closing the distance between them and claiming her lips in a kiss. It started off slow, but they got lost in each other, and soon enough Isabel found her back pressed against the wall of the cell, Alistair's hard, strong body pinning her there. He started kissing her neck, nibbling on her sensitive collarbone, and in her distracted state she barely registered a faint creaking sound. She didn't realize what it meant until she heard a metallic _click_ , and when she did, she pushed Alistair off of her and stared at the door to the cell, wide-eyed.

"What?" he asked, starting to turn around. "Did I— _Oh, Maker_." He groaned, scratching the back of his head. Oh, Maker was right. The cell door had shut, and now they were locked in the cell. "See? I told you there was a draft."

"This is bad," Isabel stated, trying to remain calm. She walked up to the door and grabbed the bars, shaking them and trying to get the door open.

"Let me try," Alistair suggested, and he did the same thing, also failing. "So… it seems we're stuck in here…"

"Andraste have mercy on me," she muttered. "We're such _fools_."

"I did warn you about the draft," he started with a shrug.

"Are you saying this is _my_ fault?" she asked incredulously.

"No! I just…" He scratched the back of his head again, nervously quirking an eyebrow at her. "You distracted me with your feminine wiles?"

Isabel shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault you can't resist them."

"How could I? Have you seen yourself?"

She snorted a laugh, and he smiled. "Oh, yes, I'm quite the sight, all wrapped up in this blanket."

Alistair looped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It's a very flattering blanket," he started with a mischievous grin. "I think you should exchange it with your armor. All the darkspawn would fall at your feet from what a radiant sight you are. The Blight would be over in a matter of days." Isabel giggled and kissed him, enjoying the feel of his lips and his body pressed against her.

"Flattery will get you almost anywhere," she commented after they broke apart.

"Good to know." He glanced to the pile of straw in the corner of the cell and frowned. "I'm sorry, but we're going to be stuck here the rest of the night."

"I am _not_ sleeping in a dirty dungeon, Alistair," Isabel stated, sounding very much like the spoiled noble she was.

"What would you have me do, _my lady_?" he asked, mocking her haughty tone. She glared at him, and he sighed, tugging her towards the corner of the cell. "Just think… it can't be much worse than sleeping on the cold, hard ground of the Wilds. Which we did for almost a week, I might add."

"And do you remember how _horrible_ it was?" she retorted, practically whining. She stared at the measly bunch of straw in the corner of the cell with a grimace. She did _not_ want to know just how dirty the floor was.

"Yes, it was bad… but now we can cuddle and keep each other warm," Alistair pointed out. She met his gaze and sighed, shaking her head.

"Fine, but _you_ can lay down there first and _then_ I can lay on top of you."

"Yes, my lady," he replied with a mock bow, and she rolled her eyes again. Alistair pulled off his shirt and rolled it into a makeshift pillow, placing it under his head as he lay on his back on the straw. He moved around until he got comfortable enough, and then she joined him, cuddling up to his side and resting her head on his bare chest. She pulled the blanket over them, and he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close.

"See, it's not _so_ bad," he said, shivering when she moved her hand across his chest to hold him. "It's hard to complain when I have a beautiful woman in my arms."

"All right, you win with that one," she murmured, smiling to herself. She pressed a kiss right over his heart and she stifled a giggle when he breathed in sharply. "Goodnight, Ali."

"Night, Isabel." He kissed the top of her head and she let out a content sigh, the sound of his heartbeat eventually lulling her to sleep.

…

Since there was no natural light in the dungeon, Isabel didn't wake up on her own, sleeping until she heard voices and a rusty creaking sound. She fluttered her eyes open and lifted her head off Alistair's chest, craning her neck to see what was going on. Her sleepy gaze first fell upon a serving girl, then an amused Bann Teagan, and finally an _unamused_ Arl Eamon. The look on the arl's face and the sight of his arms crossed over his chest instantly snapped any drowsiness out of her system, and she bolted upright, wide awake. She reached over and pinched Alistair, _hard_ , and he jerked awake, too.

"Ow!" he groaned, sitting up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Isabel grasped his arm and held it tightly, not taking her eyes away from their little audience just outside of the cell. "What the—" He instantly shut his mouth upon realizing what was going on, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his head. "This is not what it looks like," he said quickly, just making them look _more_ guilty.

"And what exactly does it look like?" Eamon asked, still unpleased.

"Two Wardens accidentally locking themselves in a cell and spending the night on the cold, hard ground? _Sleeping_ of course…" Alistair started. "It's really not hard to lock yourself in one of these, Maker knows I've done it before…"

Eamon didn't seem to appreciate his joking tone and frowned. "Yes, I remember," the arl stated. "You two should prepare for your journey to Orzammar. You don't have time to waste."

"Yes, my lord," Alistair said, quickly getting up. He pulled Isabel up with him, wrapping the blanket around her and grabbing her hand, ready to scurry out of the dungeon.

"Alistair."

"Yeees?" he asked, whirling back around to face Eamon.

"You forgot your _shirt_."

He muttered a curse under his breath and grabbed it, throwing it on over his head. He grabbed Isabel's hand again and quickly led her out of the dungeon. As soon as they were alone, she let out a stream of laughter.

"It's not funny," he stated, clearly still embarrassed. She stopped him and pulled him into a tender kiss, giving him a small smile.

"Does it really matter that they found us like that?"

"Half naked and cuddled together?" he asked. "Yes!"

"We weren't doing anything bad," she stated. "I've found myself in much more compromising positions and they worked out fine. They'll forget about it once we leave, trust me."

"If you say so," he said with a huff. She placed her hand on his face and he leaned into the touch. He brought his hand over hers and then kissed her palm before lacing their fingers together. Alistair narrowed his eyes, quirking an eyebrow at her. "What sort of compromising positions are you talking about?" he asked. Before she could answer he shook his head. "Nope, never mind. I don't think I want to know."

Isabel giggled and started tugging him back upstairs. "Let's go."

Upon returning to their rooms, they passed the rooms of their companions, who had all gotten wind of where the two Wardens had spent the night. Alistair tightened his grip on her hand as they walked by them all, determined to get back to his room as fast as humanly possible.

"In the dungeons?" Zevran asked, moving next to Alistair as they walked. "I never would have thought you had such an appetite, my good friend Alistair."

"Andraste's flaming sword!" he groaned. "We didn't… not in the _dungeon_."

"It's a shame," Zevran continued. "Shackles and chains can spice things up, no?"

Isabel suppressed another fit of laughter, for Alistair's sake. As tempting as that all sounded, he had suffered enough embarrassment for one day. "Okay, that's enough of that," she cut in before Zevran said anything else. "We all need to get ready to leave for Orzammar, so get on it."

Zevran obeyed, heading towards his room, not without waggling his eyebrows at them first. Alistair sighed, shaking his head.

"They'll forget soon enough," Isabel said softly.

"I know, I know." He gave her a small, lopsided smile, cupping her cheek with his hand. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling away. "I'll see you at breakfast?"

"I'll save you some extra food," she said, smiling when his face lit up.

"You're the best, Izzy."

She squeezed his hand before they parted, each heading to their own rooms to prepare for the next part of their journey.


End file.
